


Not A Reflection

by BlackMageEljin



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, but also i want to continue it but??????, darkness dorks dealing with self identity issues?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMageEljin/pseuds/BlackMageEljin
Summary: A warm smile spread across his face. His heartstrings were still being pulled when he looked at Vanitas’ face, but he was less mad about it now. He had something that was actually Vanitas and not just Sora’s shadow to look for now. With time he might be able to stamp out those lingering romantic feelings of Riku’s completely and … make a friend, for once.…or he could be stuck with an awkward crush on a boy made of Darkness because he was sort of kind of not even actually nice to him once and his acquaintances in the old Organization were right and hearts were stupid and betrayed you and did stupid things.Shit.In which the two youngest members of the new organization are awkward, have identity issues, but somehow manage to help each other. Vanitas/Riku Replica - how their relationship may have started and fluff.





	Not A Reflection

Once again he walked through empty white halls questioning his existence.

It had only been a matter of days since he’d been pulled back from the brink of Nothing- pulled through the Darkness to a time that was not his own. And for what purpose? Just for him to come back so that person could pull at his strings. So that he could be the perfect puppet for Xehanort.

Just like the real Riku had once.

Always the faithful replica.

Of course, he could always rebel- fight back against the Darkness instead of submersing himself in it and ultimate bring himself beyond that man’s grasp. But then, of course, that’s what the real Riku had done.

No matter what he did he would just wind up being that boy’s shadow.

It was infuriating.

But for now he would stay put and play his part. He knew better than to think he owed Xehanort anything for ‘saving his life’. But as it stood he had given him something else- something that held much more value to him.

A purpose- a reason to exist. Something that could make him himself, and not someone else.

But ironically, that reason was the fact that he _didn’t_ exist. His purpose was to continue being the empty puppet.

It was a paradox, and he couldn’t quite find the way out. It was inertia pushing him forward, kept him coasting along the same path, something that would require less effort than change. Because even in a place like this there was a way out.

After all, he was supposed to be dead anyway. The only value his existence held was with the villains- if he really wanted it, he could be a hero…

But he was a coward, just like the real Riku.

At least playing the villain set him apart, even if it was only a little (and even so, he barely thought it counted given it was a role Riku himself had once played and simply discarded). And really, he had a better incentive to be the villain than something small like that. A promise of hope that had been given to him, a tiny light glimmering far away at the end of the abyss he’d submerged himself in.

The only light Xehanort himself had ever cared about- Kingdom Hearts.

If that man really rewrote the entire world- changed the very fabric of what was- then maybe…

Just maybe,

He could be himself, and not just a puppet.

And again, of course he knew better than to trust that man, to really believe in a promise like that but…

It was hard to not want to at least try.

Hope was something easily clung to, even if you knew it was false. So he would keep fighting for his new world- even if in the meantime it meant losing himself entirely.

So the replica continued to wander through the Castle That Never Was lost in his own pessimistic sea of thoughts. The sorrow was practically coming off him in droves. It didn’t take anything special to notice.

So, as you can imagine, for someone with a particular sensitivity to raw emotions it was rather irritating.

Vanitas had restrained himself from spawning at least 5 unversed since the kid had turned down the hallway.

“Can you tone it down? Even a heartless would try to avoid all that doom and gloom.” Vanitas ‘asked’, irritation more than apparent.

“Well excuse me for feeling something.” Came the automatic reply- something that would have been more appropriate had he been speaking to one of the Nobodies. A habit from having been surrounded by them during his first few short days of life, no doubt.

And then he made the mistake of looking up at the boy who addressed him.

His heart skipped a beat.

And he hated himself for it.

After all, he knew that this was just another feeling that didn’t really belong to him. As the faithful replica, he had known well how Riku felt about many things- and that included the hero of light. At the time, he’d probably understood those feeling better than Riku had himself. Surely he’d have had to deal with them before if he hadn’t…

Honestly, his memory was still a mess from what they had had Namine do to his heart. And now she wasn’t exactly around to fix it… Some of the pieces seemed to be put back into place when Sora himself had been put back together, from that vague connection his heart seemed to have to everyone he met, but… he’d be lying, if he said there wasn’t still a corner of his heart pining after the girl who was just as much of a shadow as he was. At the very least, he could tell the difference between the memories that were real and weren’t, even if the fake ones were still there. And he’d like to think at least some of the affection he still held for Namine was genuine- built on the similarity of their fates. Kindred spirits, if you will.

Conversely, the immediate attraction to this boy’s face was something that definitely wasn’t his, despite the fact it came from the part of his heart he knew hadn’t been touched by his witch.

But it was still there. And it made him look away as soon as he’d caught just a glimpse of him.

Vanitas didn’t notice. Currently, he was too caught up in his own annoyance to be bothered to read into anything- by which of course meant he was too preoccupied restraining unversed from popping up from some gross empathetic reaction. “Can you at least take your pity party somewhere else?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you owned this castle.” His melancholy expression had quickly been replaced with an irritated deadpan.  “And if you didn’t notice, you’re the one who stopped me.”

Vanitas frowned. He had a point, had he not heckled him he’d be on his way- though who knew how long it would take for him to be far enough away to stop bugging him. (and more importantly, he refused to admit he was wrong). “Whatever. The hell is there even to mope about anyway?”

He gave Vanitas an incredulous look. “You’re kidding.”

It was growing harder and harder for Vanitas to literally contain his emotions. “It’s all a lie; I’m not a real person!” He said in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have the patience for this. (and he refused to admit it was because it was too close to home.) “Who cares?”

“Don’t you?” The quick but earnest reply wiped the smug sneer right of Vanitas’ face. He didn’t like thinking about it- and really, he had at least come to some terms with it years ago. In the end, to him it was just another brand of pain to make him stronger; to feed into his never ending cycle of self destruction.

“Yeah, I have some other kid’s face. So what?” He walked closer to the replica as he spoke, invading his personal space and patting him on the cheek to emphasize his point- though his hand was quickly knocked away by the boy in question. “I might have been half a person when I was born, but now I’m strong enough to create my own army. I’d like to see some ‘real’ kid do that!” Of course, Vanitas was trying to convince himself just as much as the replica, but no one needed to know that.

He blinked when Vanitas finished speaking. That was… certainly a way of looking at it he hadn’t really considered. Then again, he didn’t have some fantastical power to set him apart- to make him unique. “Fair point…” He began, letting his eyes drift down to the floor. “But I’m not like you.”

“No shit.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m made of pure Darkness, you’re made of…” He trailed off, realizing his mistake in that he had no idea how replicas were actually made. “…science.”

His mouth twitched up into a small smirk at Vanitas’ slipup despite himself.

Vanitas returned it with a small smile of his own- wait no, what? No. He forced his face back into a frown.

What the hell was that? He wasn’t talking to this kid to cheer him up- he was just trying to get him out of his hair. Though he supposed getting him to stop moping would _technically_ achieve his goal it just- that wasn’t something he did. The hell if Sora had actually rubbed off on him- he wasn’t about to go around spewing off friendship speeches just because he’d been stuck in that kids heart for 10 years with Ven.

He blinked twice at Vanitas’ extremely brief smile. Had he… actually been trying to cheer him up the whole time? In his own… awkward, messed up, backwards kind of way? Well, even if it was backwards, he’d never really had someone… legitimately try to console him. It seemed that just realizing the sentiment was improving his mood- and really the more he thought about it his backwards manner of doing things was kind of endearing. Though in a way it was kind of sad… because in the end it meant he was a bit more like Sora than he’d ever be willing to admit- that the hero really had rubbed off on him. But that also meant their situations were more similar than he’d thought. Maybe they were also kindred spirits…

A warm smile spread across his face. His heartstrings were still being pulled when he looked at Vanitas’ face, but he was less mad about it now. He had something that was actually Vanitas and not just Sora’s shadow to look for now. With time he might be able to stamp out those lingering romantic feelings of Riku’s completely and … make a friend, for once.

…or he could be stuck with an awkward crush on a boy made of Darkness because he was sort of kind of not even actually nice to him once and his acquaintances in the old Organization were right and hearts were stupid and betrayed you and did stupid things.

Shit.

Meanwhile, Vanitas was confused. He felt strange- tingly, floaty, kinda warm- it was all foreign to him, and made him want to punch the blissful smile off the other boy’s face. Surely this wasn’t an emotion he was naturally capable of- it had to have come from the other side of his heart, the part that had been filled in, meaning it really wasn’t his feeling at all.

It made sense, considering whose face he was looking at.

He’d had a front row seat to many of the things Sora had experienced in the long, _long_ , years he’d spent trapped within him. Of course, unlike the others, he was situated within the deepest shadows of the hero’s heart, and therefore at least had all of Sora’s dirty little secrets to sift through and entertain him. And just like anyone else, for any innocent affection there was also a spark of lust- pushed down to where no one else could see (and really Sora had grown to be surprisingly kinky, even if he knew it was likely just the result of repression). The point being, he was intimately familiar with Sora’s infatuation with his so-called ‘best friend’.

But he had never expected that to be reflected onto him.

It was infuriating.

(And he didn’t stop to think about how no one had ever looked at him that way before.)

A single Flood escaped him.

“Che.”

He watched in wonder as the tiny creature slid out from Vanitas’ shadow and darted down the hall. A moment later he realized it might have been rude to stare- or that it might have been embarrassing for the other boy to have someone witness such a thing- but by the time he brought his gaze back to him Vanitas had already turned his back to him and begun stalking after the thing.

He opened his mouth but struggled to find something relevant to say.

“Wait.” It was a bit more honest a sentiment than he’d wanted to share, but it was all that had come to him.

Much to his surprise, Vanitas actually paused. The older boy looked over his shoulder, his glare a shade darker than it had been before.

“You’re not him.” He said it to reassure himself, to shove all the feelings that might have been Sora’s out of his heart.

Of course, he didn’t have a way to know why Vanitas had said what he did, so as the darker boy walked away another smile found its way to his face.

-

He leaned against the rail looking out over the empty city. It had been a few days since his odd conversation with Vanitas and the more time passed the more convoluted his feelings became.

Because really, no matter what he told himself, part of him just couldn’t stand the fact he had fallen for someone so close to the hero.

Not to mention the foundation for these feelings was iffy at best. But who could blame him? He’d only been alive for not even 2 weeks now, so the little things were bound to have a bigger effect on him. After all, 5 minutes for him was more than 1/4000 of his whole life. That fraction may not sound very impressive, but for someone who as actually 15 years old 5 minutes was only about 1/1600000. It was a big difference.

And no one had ever tried to validate his existence before.

That wasn’t exactly true. Sora had said he was his own person once, but at the same time did… Sora even understand what he was saying? He’d been a pile of broken and fake memories at the time, and even if he hadn’t been, he just… didn’t understand things. How could he take that reassurance, when it came from someone who when they were themselves again, murdered the survivors of the old organization in cold blood- because they weren’t ‘real’, because they weren’t ‘supposed to be’. It had been a hypocritical platitude at best…

It wasn’t as though he had never experienced kindness before. Honestly the person who had been nicest to him in the past had probably been the real Riku, even if it had been on his death bed. He found he now held very little- if any- resentment for the real boy. After all, he hadn’t been the one to make him. Not that he resented Vexen for making him… well, he resented Vexen, but not for that- for the betrayal. He resented Axel for lying to and manipulating him, and he resented himself for what he did to Zexion… He couldn’t resent Namine even if he wanted to, but he resented all of people who had used her and forced her to do what she did.

The point being, he didn’t exactly have a lot of fond memories. Well- technically he did, but not any real ones. So a single act of kindness had an overwhelming effect, even if he knew logically it shouldn’t.

And it wasn’t just that someone had been nice to him, it had been that he… said some things that really meant a lot. Especially when he thought more about it. Having been surrounded by the previous Organization and their obsession with becoming ‘real’, he’d certainly never heard someone say it didn’t matter. And it had come from someone who was only a fragment themselves- someone who hadn’t been their own person and yet used that to make themselves stronger.

But why did he have to look like _Sora._

Well, they certainly weren’t identical, and that was besides the piercing gold eyes and jet black hair. He doubted the two were actual capable of making the same expression. Vanitas had that sort of glint in his eyes- something dangerous, like a constant warning he was just moments away from striking. His smile was different- never really a smile and always a taunting smirk, and even that one genuine smile that had slipped through the corner of one side of his mouth had twitched higher like not even the subtle expression of his lips was allowed to defy the deep, rich, beautiful Darkness he was made out of. And speaking of Darkness; the scent of it came off him like he’d been soaked through. But somehow it wasn’t the same putrid stench he was used to- oh no- it was somehow more refined, made into something alluring like how Darkness was supposed to tempt a person into sin and-

…he was getting off topic.

In the end there were some things he certainly still had to sort out, but he was… happy.

He leaned a little more of his weight against the railing, a smile on his face.

It was then that he noticed something rubbing against his leg.

He jumped back in alarm, not knowing what the hell to expect. Was it a heartless or-

…he blinked twice. It was an unversed.

It flitted about and then scurried back up to him, rubbing against his boot like it was a cat.

“Huh?”

He knew what an unversed was. He knew they came from Vanitas, and he understood the basic theory but… he wasn’t sure exactly how it all worked. He’d only seen the one before… he supposed that proved that they weren’t always perfectly controlled by him. They were, essentially, his emotions, so this was…

He blushed.

Once that thought settled he knelt down and held his hand out to the tiny creature. The flood responded by rubbing its head against it, like a normal animal would if it wanted to be pet. Of course, he happily complied; and it wasn’t long before he’d scooped it up into his arms, scratching it behind its… horn? It didn’t matter. What did matter was it seemed content and continued to nuzzle against him as he stood and leaned back against the railing.

-

Vanitas prowled through the halls looking for stray emotions that had escaped him.

Needless to say, having his emotions run wild meant they were _literally_ running wild and _hell_ if he was going to let anyone notice the sudden increase in the world’s unversed population. And while he was at it, he might take out that stupid replica too, seeing as this was somehow his fault.

It had taken Vanitas 3 days to realize that no one had ever looked at him like that before.

That stupid earnest expression that could trick you into thinking he was actually from the back-water island the real one was from.

He just didn’t understand it. All he’d done was yell at and make fun of him. But he looked at him like he’d just fucking cured cancer or some shit. It just didn’t make sense.

He was a monster. A weapon- or well only half of one really. He was made of pure Darkness- certainly more so than any of the other 12 idiots running this operation.

So why the hell would he look at him like that…

And why did it make him feel…

Uhg.

It wasn’t as though he was completely unfamiliar with stray feelings of longing. He would be drawn to Ventus, want to be closer to him. But he hated Ven. He wanted to untie with him, but he wanted to kill him. He needed to be complete, but he couldn’t stand the thought of ceasing to be his own person.

He was a pile of contradictions that all fed into the Darkness and made it spiral out of control.

And in the end none of that had ever really be resolved. He and Ventus had probably spent too much time apart- too permanently filled in the spots where the other one was supposed to fit. That’s why even after coming together they just popped right back apart again.

Maybe that all had less to do with his current situation than he thought… but it was certainly easier to think about than why he had actually _smiled_ at someone.

Just the thought of that made him feel gross.

He didn’t know what was worse, thinking that it actually _had_ come from Sora or that he…

What?

Was…

Happy

For him?

????

That’s just fucking stupid.

But was it worse than admitting it came from _Sora?_

Maybe he wouldn’t be having this problem if he didn’t look like _Riku._

…Okay, he wasn’t that naïve. If there was going to be a replica running around, it’d have been made after someone important. If not Riku, than who? Terra? Kairi? He’d still wind up questioning himself the same way.

So in the end he was left with a choice. He could relent and admit Sora still had a hold from when he had filled in the gaps, or decide to own the strange not-so-dark emotion and deal with all the baggage that would undoubtedly come with it.

God this was just so fucking _irritating._

…and there went another Flood.

He sighed.

-

In the meantime a certain replica had happily busied himself with the tiny unversed he had seemingly befriended.

He probably should have been more alarmed when Vanitas stormed out onto the balcony like he was out for blood.

He smiled, and opened his mouth to-

-And that was a keyblade missing his nose by a centimeter.

The flood was gone. Vanitas winced, though had he not already been looking directly at him before the strike he probably would have missed it.

There was an awkward pause.

“… Doesn’t that hurt?” Surely he could just… reabsorb them without destroying them like that, right?

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

There was another pause.

Despite the death glare and harsh words, the replica was still just looking at him curiously.

He wasn’t dealing with this shit right now.

Vanitas managed to turn and get a few steps away before the replica registered he was leaving.

“Wait!” He ran up and grabbed his hand. Vanitas pulled it away immediately, but stopped regardless; looking over his shoulder and giving a very irritated “ _What_?”

The replica was unphased by the irritation, much to Vanitas’ displeasure. After all, he’d be irritated too if he had spent the day going around stabbing pieces of himself.

“…I wanted to thank you. For the other day…” He smiled.

Vanitas’ expression slowly contorted, the confusion and lingering annoyance fighting for control of his face. He turned to face the other boy slowly, and this time when he spoke the question sounded surprisingly honest “…Why?”

Oh. The replica looked away and scratched his cheek. He hadn’t really… thought this far ahead. He hadn’t exactly been surprised by the question, but he wasn’t really prepared for it either…

“Well…” he began slowly, trying to buy time to gather his thoughts. “…no one had ever… really told me being real doesn’t matter before…” He looked up and found Vanitas still staring blankly at him, as though he expected him to keep going.

“…I know it may not have been your intention,” Well, friendly floods indicated otherwise, but he had a feeling Vanitas didn’t really want to admit that quite yet, so he’d humor him “But you really helped me the other day. What you said made a difference, so I wanted to thank you.”

Vanitas continued to stare blankly for a few more seconds before his face scrunched up in confusion again. “ _Huh?”_

The replica sighed. He didn’t think this was going to be this hard… and going into much more detail would give away things he would rather keep to himself at present…

“Look, you really cheered me up then…”

“Well yeah that was pretty obvious.”

The replica frowned. He had felt bad for being frustrated at what seemed like honest confusion, but now the dark boy was just being contrary. He tried his best to ignore it…

“Which is why I’m thanking you.”

Another blank stare.

“What have you never been thanked before?” He finally lost his temper.

“Nope.”

…oh.

The replica’s frown slowly melted as his eyes filled up with apology. He felt like an ass- really he should have figured that out sooner…

Vanitas saw the change in expression and scowled.

“I don’t need your pity.” And with that he turned to walk off again.

The replica grabbed his hand again. “Wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“Let go!”

“It’s not pity! I get it, ok! I’m the same as you!”

“The hell is that supposed mean!?” He stopped trying to pull away at the very least. The replica tried his best to calm himself.

“If you haven’t noticed, neither of us are entirely our own person. But you told me that didn’t matter! I took it to heart because you actually _are_ somebody!”

There was another pause, and Vanitas’ scowl was replaced by a neutral mask.

“You got the wrong idea.”

“ _How_?”

“I’m not anybody. I’m just another monster.”

The replica paused, taken aback. He had just kind of… assumed that Vanitas had the confidence- the strength of heart- to live his own life despite how he was made because he’d said…

So maybe they were more alike than he thought.

But that was ok too, wasn’t it?

After a few moments of silence, Vanitas turned to walk away again, but he was once again stopped by the replica speaking up.

“’Who cares’.” He repeated Vanitas’ words back to him. “You’re nothing like Sora or that other boy. You’re you. Who cares if you’re a monster? I don’t. You’re just… you.”

Vanitas just stared at him, his face a perfect mask of emotionlessness. An impressive feat given what he was. “What the hell do you want?”

“…Can’t we be friends?” He realized he was pushing his luck at this point, but it seemed like if he didn’t make a connection now he wasn’t going to at all.

Vanitas frowned. “I don’t do friends.”

The replica took another chance. “…well the unversed do, apparently.”

“Che! Floods are a manifestation of my _irritation_ ” Another glare.

“…so you’re irritated that you like me?” A smirk.

There was a pause.

“You’re annoying.” That wasn’t a no.

“And you’re an asshole.” He grinned, and the worlds didn’t sound like an insult at all.

Vanitas raised an eyebrow at the obviously mismatched tone. Well, he wasn’t going to argue with what he said; they both knew it was true, after all.

Meanwhile, the replica was practically walking on clouds. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but he had actually convinced the dark boy to be friends with him. His first friend- and he had actually managed to help Vanitas in the same way he had helped him. Or well- he thought he did at least. He certainly seemed to be in a better mood than he had been when he’d stormed in here. And he had- while not directly- admitted to liking him- er… in a friendly sense at least… or he assumed it was in a friendly sense…? Ah… he really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. This wasn’t the time for him to get greedy.

…but what if he meant it in a more than friendly sense?

At the thought, he squeezed the hand that he was…

…Still holding.

Shit.

Vanitas looked down at their joined hands when he felt the pressure, but barely had a second to contemplate it when the replica pulled his hand away and rubbed the back of his head, obviously embarrassed.

“Sorry about that…”

Vanitas raised his eyebrow again. And then he smirked, leaning closer and flicking the other boy on the nose. “Nerd.”

Honestly, he still really didn’t like the concept of ‘friends’- if it was going to be anything like Ventus and Terra and all of that nonsense he didn’t want anything to do with it. (Though there was a part of him who wanted it just so he could rub it in Ven’s face as payback for that shot he’d taken at him before.) But he admitted he… didn’t hate the replica, and that was first for him (any overly complicated feelings relating to Ven notwithstanding.) And if all he expected from ‘friendship’ was breathing the same air and half-insulting each other than he could… tolerate that.

…and he couldn’t really deny that they… had some stuff in common.

He didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t a monster, but he… didn’t care. He just accepted it…

…it was…

…nice.

So maybe it was ok that these feelings were his… Sora wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like this anyway- it wouldn’t make sense if it was him.

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the ground seriously for a few moments now.

But just before the replica could ask what was wrong, he looked up directly at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead found his eyes darting away and had to force himself to bring them back.

“…thanks.”

The replica’s face broke out into a wide smile. “Of course.”

And this time, Vanitas let himself smile back with his own devilish, crooked smile.

-

A week later, the increase in the unversed population had been unfortunately noticed.

However this had surprisingly only ended in a scolding from Saix- the majority seemed to have assumed Vanitas had simply become lazy or bored. Or both. And really, it was a completely reasonable assumption.

But it was still wrong.

Vanitas, having made an actual friend, had been experience a whole new range of emotions for the first time and naturally was less capable of controlling them. He himself had been fairly confused, insisting that the unversed should only be spawned from negativity and really he- the boy made purely of Darkness- shouldn’t even be capable of producing non-negative emotions in the first place.

But the replica had called him naïve, and said that he, of all people, should know that any emotion can be twisted by the Darkness- even the ‘lighter’ ones like joy, contentment, and affection.

And really, he was right, and he did know better- but it was still confusing to find unversed escaping him because he was… happy.

Meanwhile, the replica had been learning new things about Vanitas every day.

First and foremost was that fact Vanitas did what he wanted, when he wanted, with absolutely no impulse control or regard for others. Had it not been for the very clear orders from the old man himself, he had no doubt that Vanitas would have left to hunt down his other half ages ago.

What this meant for the replica was that Vanitas would often show up out of the blue, rip whatever he had been reading out of his hands to toss to the other side of the room, and then demand they do whatever it was he had suddenly decided he wanted to do.

Which was usually to spar.

Their first match had been incredibly bizarre, almost a perfect mirror match as they very quickly learned they had very similar fighting styles. They had been evenly matched (which honestly he had half expected to lose) and it ended more or less in a draw- the fight ending because both of them were simply too confused to continue. When he had drawn the Darkness to him, Vanitas’ only comment was that the outfit looked better on him (which he honestly agreed with, but no one needed to know that), but had surprisingly said little else about it (maybe because they both found it a little weird that they matched).

Besides that, he had honestly been surprised with how often Vanitas actually sought out his attention.

He didn’t always come storming in just to drag him away from what he was doing. He would just… spend the time with him. They were each other’s only friend, so he supposed it made sense, but it was still… strange.

Maybe Vanitas had recently decided he was better off not asking questions. Before it wasn’t uncommon for him to engage in what was surprisingly normal small talk- asking ‘what are you reading’ ‘why’ and so on. Of course, most of what he had been and still was reading are old research logs of Vexen’s. He had explained to the dark boy that he wanted to know exactly how he worked so he would be able to fix himself if something happened. This seemed to confuse him since his body, despite its origins, was flesh and blood- and beginning to explain to him the process of sonic infusion had just confused him more.

He was smarter than Sora certainly, but that wasn’t a very high bar.

So maybe that was why now he would just find him, sit down, and not question any books.

But this brought us to a more… problematic discovery.

The replica had learned that Vanitas had absolutely no understanding of personal space.

This was first made apparent by the fact he would often poke and prod at him when he spoke. It made enough sense- he was just a physical person in general, though it more commonly manifested through acts of violence.

But that much obviously wasn’t the problem, the problem was…

…hugs?

He seriously doubted anything the dark boy did could actually be constituted as such, but he didn’t know what else to really call it. Vanitas would just… drape himself over him. If they were both standing, it was always from behind. He’d never really wrap his arms around him like a proper hug, but he would be close enough to rest his chin on his shoulder. And if they were sitting… At this point, he had been laid on in all manners of forms- head in his lap, legs draped over his own, Vanitas’ entire body weight somehow pressing against his shoulder and only his shoulder. Half the time this was in an attempt to read over his shoulder, and the other half seemed to be Vanitas making himself fucking comfortable and to hell with the circulation in his legs.

Really it would make more sense if the dark boy had his own book to read or… really _anything_ to entertain himself with, but as it was he seemed content to just sit there in silence and… cuddle?

Again, the word didn’t seem to fit right at all, but he lacked a better way to describe his apparent new status as a living chair.

He probably should have been more irritated by it, but that was because he was too busy being _frustrated_. Vanitas constantly shoving his face so close to his own was tantalizing and slowly driving him insane.

And honestly he’d assume the other boy was doing it on purpose and just fucking with him half the time if he didn’t have full faith that if he wanted _that_ sort of attention he’d just shove him against the nearest stable surface and-

…but that wasn’t something he should be thinking about now. Not with the aforementioned boy pressed up against him on the small settee.

The replica was taking up a very small corner of the piece of furniture. Vanitas, meanwhile, was stretched out along the whole thing, feet propped up on the opposite chair arm. The full weight of his upper body was leaning against the replica with his arm slung lazily over the boy’s shoulders. His chin was resting on his shoulder, and what was left of his helmet was digging rather painfully into his neck.

Vanitas knew exactly what he was doing.

He wasn’t stupid, and he was much better at understanding people than most gave him credit for- mistaking his general lack of giving a fuck for ignorance, which was usually the result of someone trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Idiots.

It had not taken him a very long time to notice the poorly hid blushes and awkward avoidance of eye contact, and had taken him even less time to realize exactly what that meant. What had taken time was… figuring out how… he felt about it.

God that sounded so lame and he hated it.

But it was the unfortunate truth, one that he had been forced to admit to himself. He had never been the object of someone’s affection before. And really, there was probably something wrong with the replica’s head for him to have some strangely earnest crush on him. (Of course if it was just a physical attraction it would make perfect sense, but that was neither here nor there.) The question was what the hell he was going to do about it.

A very large part of him kept answering: ‘He’s hot, you’re hot, what the hell is the problem?’

Because shits more complicated than that self that’s what the fucking problem is.

(And that was as much as he’d say. Because he absolutely refused to admit to himself that it was something new and was confusing and that scared him. Or that maybe he actually cared enough about the other boy to not want to fuck things up.)

This was followed by a day of awkward flirting.

Or well, an attempt to do so, because the replica was being incredibly obtuse. He apparently couldn’t fathom the fact he might be getting what he wanted and instead just seemed to make himself progressively more frustrated. Initially this had been irritating for Vanitas as well, but as he went on to do more and more obvious things that made the replica more and more flustered, it had sort of… turned into a game.

Whoops.

He wasn’t sure when exactly he had gone from annoyed and confused to amused and… well still probably confused but that wasn’t the point- but as it was now the odd process had left him with no qualms about shoving the boy against the nearest stable surface and shoving his tongue down his throat but…

Watching him squirm was so entertaining.

Which brought us back to the current situation- Vanitas going out of his way to find the most obnoxious and simultaneously flirtatious position he could manage. The replica was nearing the end of his rope.

“If you don’t move I swear that hunk of metal on your jaw is going to slit open my jugular.” He turned the page with more force than necessary.

Vanitas rolled his eyes. “Well sor-ry.” And for once he had pity and actually moved, revealing a dent in the other boy’s skin. The replica’s patience astounded him sometimes…

He kissed the spot- to make it better, naturally.

The look on the replica’s face was priceless.

He had gone completely stiff, and somehow almost dropped his book despite having formed an iron grip on it.

“What the hell was that!?”

“What was what?”

For a brief moment, he actually thought he was going insane- that he had somehow imagined the whole thing. But no, he could definitely still feel the strange warm static on his skin from where he had…

“Don’t play dumb!” the replica pushed Vanitas off of him and forced the other boy to sit up, looking him in right in eye.

He was met with the perfect picture of innocence and confusion.

Which lasted about 0.5 seconds before the ends of Vanitas’ lips began to twitch up as though he were trying not to laugh.

And that was the precise moment he had pushed the replica too far.

This was made obvious to him by the fact he had just been hit so hard in the face by the book the other boy had been reading he had actually been knocked off the settee.

Once he recovered, he looked up to find the replica trying to force himself to calm down. He’d obviously regretted the action, though whether it had been because he hadn’t meant to hit him _that_ hard or it had just been too telling he didn’t know.

He sat up and wiped the corner of his mouth “What the hell was that for?”

The replica looked at him like he was trying not to hit him again (which he was).

“You know _exactly_ what it was for!”

Well that was true.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh no you caught me.” He said in a sarcastic dead pan. “What do you want from me?” Because really, he knew damn well he was signing up to deal with the biggest shit in the universe when he reached out to him- he should have known better.

…But still, his game was over and things weren’t exactly going like he’d hoped. The replica was fucking pissed- which both had and hadn’t expected to happen… but that didn’t really change the fact he didn’t really know where to go from here.

He tried smiling in a way he assumed was charming- which was more of a devilish smirk but whatever.

The replica frowned.

“I don’t know Vanitas. What the hell do _you_ want!?” He spat the question back at him. He wasn’t entirely sure it exactly made sense in context to do so, but he was too angry and confused to care. And more importantly, it was a question he finally wanted a straight fucking answer for.

“You- I though I’ve been making that painfully obvious.”

…Oh.

Oh.

_Oh._

And while the replica seemed to flash back to every time they had shared physical contact in the last week, Vanitas watched with a smarmy grin. He actually did feel a little bad for turning the whole mess back on the replica, but well… 1) If he didn’t the replica would probably still be pissed at him, 2) he had just been hit in the face with a fucking textbook and wanted revenge, and 3)… he would be lying if he said he still didn’t enjoy watching the other boy squirm.

But the then replica abruptly glared at Vanitas again (though he was still fairly flustered so it was considerably less effective than his earlier book-smacking anger). “Then why the hell were you playing dumb just a minute ago!?”

Shit.

Vanitas took a moment to try to find a way to phrase it that didn’t make him sound like the huge asshole they both knew he was. “…because you’re cute when you’re flustered?” Right- ‘flustered’- that was the nice way of saying ‘scared shitless and hilariously confused by my extremely blatant advances’. He tried the ‘charming smile’ again.

The replica blushed.

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

Vanitas watched as the replica collected his thoughts again. Eventually he sighed, and then smiled; setting his book down as he stood and offered a hand to help Vanitas off the floor. Once the dark boy was on his feet he returned the smile with his own crooked one.

And then was a hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek. The gentle smile had become something slyer and blue-green eyes had become half lidded.

“You really are something else, Vanitas.”

Vanitas closed his eyes, began to lean forward and-

Was punched in the face.

He knew he deserved it but _come on._

But before he had time to complain, his chin was yanked forward and another pair of lips was silencing his own.

Fucking finally.

 

 


End file.
